CLAUDIA: I wonder where little Claudia is? I pray for her often ... only eleven. When I saw her last she was carrying her little brother as she always did. It was Monday night and the little kids Bible club was finished. It was very dark. She looked up at me and shyly smiled then disappeared into the night followed by a little parade of brothers and sisters. Her father was a heroin addict, her mother a prostitute. They are all gone now. Will I see Claudia again? Where? When? Yes, I pray for her.

CARLOS: Seve was back. She gave me a big hug ... so glad to see me. She had run the border with little Carlos six months ago. They had to have money to buy their property and pay for school. Los Angeles is where they went. She cleaned houses. They're both back now with the money she's saved. Carlos gave me a big hug too ... showed me his certificate of achievement in a drug awareness program ... courtesy of the Los Angeles city schools system. He was so proud.

THE LITTLE STRANGLER: Adrian asked me if I knew "who that kid is" and "why he is in the children's jail." I had just talked with the little twelve-year-old boy. He looked and talked bit slow ... had a baggy shirt that hung over his equally baggy pants. He was the only one running around with bare feet. The boy seemed nice enough. Adrian continued almost matter of factly ... "he's in here because he strangled his three little brothers." We went on to another subject.

HARD HEARTS: Saturday, as I left the little market at Trincherazo after paying some on the grocery bills of two very poor women. I noticed several older teens outside sitting in back of the building. Not unusual. I knew the boys and walked over to greet them. One young man ... about twenty-three ... looked up at me, then stood up and asked if I recognized him. He looked like a wrestler. Well built ... tattoos all over his arms. He looked familiar but, no, I didn't recognize him. "I'm Javier," he said. "I used to live here when I was a young boy and I remember you. I remember the words you used to teach us. Your words helped me to become a Christian. I live in South Mexico and I attend a church in Monterey." Quite a statement to make in front of the other guys which constitute most of the gang there at Trinchi. More than twenty of these teen gang members gather each night to play basketball until dark. I asked them what they do then. "Just hang around and talk." "What if I came here and talked to you after basketball". I asked "would you listen?" They replied , "Yes! Saturdays we are here with nothing to do." Now, when can I carve out time to meet with these kids?

AMAZON UPSET: It was Friday and another on-again off-again rainy day at Puraque (N.T.Mission school fronting the Amazon River in Brazil). The river was already looking mean, and that was the only way home. There were five of us who needed to be in Manaus (about a 45 minute trip up river). Three of us were to fly out. An older couple visiting the school had an evening flight. I was to fly out early the next morning to Bolivia. We had waited until afternoon because Kim and Vicki Sharp had to finish their school day before going to Manaus to visit the dentist. It wasn't the best time for a trip up river but it was getting late. I wasn't excited about the wind and rain because I had a bad cough; my chest wasn't feeling good. I still had the Bolivian trip before me.

A rain squall had just passed over us at Puraque and was heading up river. We knew we would meet it again in a matter of minutes. One by one we stepped from the dock into our small aluminum boat until all six of us were inside. I was seated in front with Kim. We had life jackets but rather than look like a "visitor," I sat on mine (like a real pro!). The older lady put hers on. The fact that I can't swim made me edgy. But macho is macho! We put tarps over the luggage and covered up in ponchos to brace against the rain and wind. Roger Nordass was seated in the aft, He cranked the outboard motor and in a burbling buzz we were off up the muddy Amazon. We were heavy. and the boat sat low in the water, but the motor had plenty of power.

I was thankful that Roger kept us close to the shore line (about 20 yards away.) He headed into the wind and at an angle to the swells. In about fifteen minutes, the swells got bigger or maybe we were getting smaller. The Amazon river can dwarf almost anything, even the large cruise ships that come to Manaus.

The sky was getting gray. The water brown and angry. On several occasions I saw fresh water dolphins surfacing in front of us. The swells grew larger and started to look mean as though they had something bad in mind.

The capsize took us all by surprise, a first in a N.T.Mission boat to or from Manaus. It happened! Roger was thrown overboard and almost dragged by the current into the racing propeller. I remember taking a large gulp of air and grabbing my life jacket and then it was all dark. Dark brown. The water was warm and full of bubbles as it closed over me. I was under the boat, disoriented, trying to work my way to the side but actually going the length of the boat not across it. Just when I was out of air, really out of air! ... I somehow changed directions and got to the side of the boat. Looking up I vividly remember seeing a lighter brown color of the water. This was the top surface! Air! I pulled up dragging my jacket with me. Holding on to the side of the upside down boat. I grabbed some air and tried to get my life jacket up. It had somehow become jammed under the boat. I yanked at it and it tore in half, I took the best half, the only half I could get! By this time the rest of our group were swimming to shore. No big deal for the MKs; They swim the Amazon each day, and they had light clothing. All of them assumed I could swim. I pushed against the current and worked my way around the boat and the motor then launched by faith, out toward shore holding what was left of the life jacket in my left hand and stroking with my right. I could see the others climbing up the bank. The current was strong, and my progress seemed incredibly slow. The shore, still some distance away, became a blurry goal as I continued downstream stroking with the swells. It seemed forever, but I finally reached the bank, a five foot wall of gray slippery clay. Grabbing some plants ,I pulled myself up. Stickers or no stickers I was glad to stand on land. The rain was steady; I heard thunder. Looking like a drowned rat ... and an old drowned rat at that, totally undignified, I stood for awhile getting my breath, thankful for my life and thinking. IF we had been in the middle of the river like we normally go? IF the boat would have gone down immediately? IF I couldn't have found a life jacket? It would have been all over! I thought about everything. Bible, passport, tickets, clothing, everything. Here I was in Brazil with zilch! But I had my life and I was thankful to the Lord for life! And for air!

The brush was nasty and full of stickers as I climbed further up the bank and into a large yucca garden. The going became easier, and I made my way back walking upstream to the others. Roger had jumped back in the river and was swimming after the boat. I thought this showed a great deal of courage and commitment but it seemed a little stupid at the time, but, then, these guys are good swimmers and missionary boats are expensive.

We stood on the shore in the rain, three old people looking more like drowned rats than senior citizens and two cute teenage girls looking for a hitch to Manaus. Thank the Lord for the cute MKs. In Brazil, the men are always on the lookout for nice looking girls. They can see them for miles, even in the rain! Before long two boats were heading our way. I think if it weren't for the girls we might still be standing on the shore of the mighty Amazon thumbing a ride upriver. One boat went for Roger and the capsized craft, the other came toward us or the girls or whatever. It appeared to be an Amazon tug boat complete with cabin, open windows, diesel engine and a bell to signal the teenage engineer. They do things right in Brazil even in small boats. We agreed on a price. For a wet $15 US, they would tie their logs, turn around and take us back up to Manaus. It was a deal. Soon we were all aboard and towing our uprighted craft slowly upriver. I couldn't believe what I saw as I looked out the rear of our tug boat. In our aluminum boat was my very wet cloth flight bag and very wet Samsonite suitcase! My other suitcase, computer and video camera, though were gone. What a miracle! Over thirty minutes under an overturned boat and they were saved! I had my Bible, passport, ticket and money ... all very, very wet! I remember taking my Bible and squeezing the water out of it, then peeling two wet bills, one a five the other a ten, out of my flight bag. I handed them to the captain who gave it to his teenage engineer. The kid went to the engine room and hung them to dry in the heat of the exhaust. I had about thirty or forty minutes to think and thank God for his goodness to all of us. We later learned that a couple of weeks earlier about the same place another boat capsized loosing all aboard. The Amazon, it seems, can be rather unforgiving.

As we approached the dock, we saw the missionaries waiting for us and tried to signal them. There was no reply until they saw who we were and what we were in. What a surprise. What a story. What a reunion. We were quickly driven to the mission house about thirty minutes away. Everyone treated me very well. Would you believe a beautiful air conditioned room with all the trimmings. I started three days of sorting and drying out. Everything was wet! Samsonite is not waterproof! My passport page with the Brazil visa had come apart, this needed to be fixed before my flight to Bolivia. The loss was substantial! My small computer, the video camera with valuable film, my 35mm camera, film, and lenses, clothing, flashlights, clock (that stopped at 3:27pm) and Bible plus all of my speaking notes, either gone or ruined. Physically, I had a few scratches on my hands and my chest didn't feel good. I started on antibiotics.

My first thought was to head back north (home) as my notes were gone and much of my clothing and all of my pants. My Bible was a thousand wet pages. ("The whole truth" but no way to get to it!) There were no flights going north from Manaus however, so I headed south on to Bolivia, This proved a good decision resulting in a good ministry and a great trip. I learned several lessons, here are three. 1. Macho or no macho, to use a life jacket when boating. 2. Remember to insure your equipment. 3. And "stuff" is nice but life is nicer! The Lord is indeed good!